


wear a mask, face the truth

by IvyOnTheHolodeck



Series: higher, faster, everlasting [1]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: ...Technically, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Benzaiten Lives, Canon Compliant, Dark Matters, Fix-It, Gen, I’m way too invested in Sasha and Benten’s friendship I just made up, Spies & Secret Agents, Why Sasha Wire really left the HCPD, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24837514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyOnTheHolodeck/pseuds/IvyOnTheHolodeck
Summary: Sasha Wire holds her head high, making direct eye contact with each of fifteen concealed surveillance cameras as she approaches the front entrance of a foreclosed nail salon. She steps carefully around an abandoned syringe on the doorstep, tears down the yellow CAUTION tape across the door, and pulls a small device from her jacket that sends a directed EM pulse into the digital lock. The door groans open into a room empty of everything but dust and cobwebs. Sasha steps smartly into the room, letting the door swing closed behind her. She doesn’t flinch as a blaster muzzle presses into the side of her head.
Relationships: Sasha Wire & Benzaiten Steel
Series: higher, faster, everlasting [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796644
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	wear a mask, face the truth

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a shitpost about Benten and M’tendere complementing each other. It spawned an entire alternate storyline for s3 (although TECHNICALLY nothing yet says my version DIDN’T happen.) 
> 
> Sometimes a family is a motley group of highly competent outlaws chasing another motley group of highly competent outlaws through the stars.
> 
> Warnings in end notes.

Sasha Wire holds her head high, making direct eye contact with each of fifteen concealed surveillance cameras as she approaches the front entrance of a foreclosed nail salon. She steps carefully around an abandoned syringe on the doorstep, tears down the yellow CAUTION tape across the door, and pulls a small device from her jacket that sends a directed EM pulse into the digital lock. The door groans open into a room empty of everything but dust and cobwebs. Sasha steps smartly inside, letting the door swing shut behind her. She doesn’t flinch as a blaster muzzle presses into the side of her head.

“You have thirty seconds to convince me not to shoot you,” says the agent holding the gun.

“This wouldn’t be necessary if you had a receptionist, you know,” Sasha says crisply. “I’m Cadet Sasha Wire of the HCPD, here to see the Dark Matters induction agent. I have an invitation.” She produces a matte black card for her captor’s inspection.

The agent scans it and sizes her up behind their dark glasses. Sasha knows the figure she cuts - knobby limbs in threadbare civilian clothes, hair cut along her jawline with straightedge precision. An Oldtown brat used to being tested to destruction. She angles her hip to show off the outline of the knife strapped to her thigh, a distraction from the blaster hidden under her jacket.

“Come with me,” says the agent.

Their boots leave no prints on the floor, the dust having been painted on. The agent leads her to a cupboard that opens onto a slick metal staircase descending below street level.

Sasha sets her jaw. Last chance to turn back - but really, there’s no choice at all. She knows what she has to do.

At the base of the stairs, the agent leads her into an antechamber and confiscates her knives, blaster, dagger, permibrass knuckles, and even the strangling cord threaded inside her belt. Sasha’s grudgingly impressed with their efficiency. She tells herself she’s pleased to know she’ll soon be just as good, and she almost believes it.

The agent brings her back into the corridor and tells her to take three lefts and then a right at the interrogation center. The halls are pitch black, either as a test or an absurd power trip. Sasha debates trying to find her way forward by sound and touch, but there could be booby traps. Better to stick to the safe solution.

“Thanks for your help,” she says, holding out her hand to shake. The moment the agent’s palm touches hers, she yanks them off balance, free hand pulling the sunglasses off their face as they stumble past her.

Ignoring their cursing, Sasha tries on the glasses. Sure enough, they give her night vision, painting the corridor in shades of green. She slips past the agent, noting their low marks in the rolling stats which the glasses overlay on the environment. They must have been assigned door duty to keep them out of harm’s way.

Three lefts, then a right at an interrogation center Sasha can’t bring herself to inspect too closely. She finds herself staring down a dark doorway like any other. Office of Agent B, Civilian Relations, report her glasses. She knocks.

“C’mon in,” cries a voice, far more jovial than she expected. She schools her face into neutrality and opens the door.

Whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t antler chandeliers, elaborate oak paneling, sculpted horses, and jet black ten-gallon hats. Her sunglasses’ lenses darken to protect her from the increased brightness. 

Agent B studies her from behind the desk, one arm slung over the back of his chair, glinting sunglasses sinking in the broad planes of his face. His jaw looks like it could crack a walnut just as easily as a smile. “Well, if it ain’t little Miss Wire. How’d you get down here?”

“Your bouncer is incompetent,” Sasha says, locking her hands behind her back.

Agent B laughs like that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Suppose they are! I’ll have a chat with them when we’re done. Pull up a chair, make yourself comfortable.”

Sasha settles on a seat shaped like a saddle, her heart doing double-time. Her sunglasses show no stats for the man, only a pulsing red error message.

“So what brings you to my humble office, Miss Wire?” Agent B pulls a pair of cut glass tumblers from behind his desk, offering her one. “Drink?”

“No thank you.” She won’t be poisoned so easily.

“Suit yourself.” He pours himself a finger of amber liquid and tosses it back.

She can’t afford to beat around the bush. Time is a limited resource. She’d borrowed her dads’ car minutes after Mick had called her with the news. For all she knows, it’s already too late. “I’m here,” she says, her voice steady, “to formalize my acceptance to the Dark Matters Academy.”

“Now ain’t that funny,” Agent B says, “given as I just finished reading the letter you sent in yesterday refusing us.” He picks up his comms and flicks his fingers, sending a file skidding onto the display surface built into his desk. “Quite the piece of prose. You may have been flipping us the bird, but you sure as hell were polite about it.”

“I meant no offense.” She knows better than to make unnecessary enemies. Sasha’s personal beliefs as to Dark Matters’ legality, morality, and effectiveness are no one’s business but her own.

“Intentions aside, you most certainly turned us down, so you must understand why I don’t put much stock in your sudden desire for a catsuit and sunglasses. Dark Matters is no place for the indecisive.”

“Indecision has nothing to do with it,” Sasha says evenly. “My circumstances changed.” 

“What’s to say they won’t change back just as easy?”

“Because you’ll be holding a gun to my head.”

“Miss Wire, I can’t possibly fathom what you-”

“Project Omega.”

Very slowly, Agent B sets down his comms. “I beg your pardon?”

“I am offering my services in exchange for the implementation of Project Omega,” Sasha repeats, keeping her face blank to mask her pounding heart.

“Can’t say I’ve heard of it.”

He doesn’t even try to make the lie convincing. Sasha raises an eyebrow. “In that case, I’ll need you to bring me to someone who has.”

“Presuming for a second,” the agent says, leaning forward, “that something jogs my memory about this project of yours. What possible use could you have for it?”

Sasha pulls a sheaf of documents from inside her jacket and sets it on the desk. “This is a personnel file. I keep analog records on all relevant individuals in my life in case an emergency should arise.”

“An attitude I respect.” Agent B swipes the papers off the table and flips through them. Sasha forces herself to be patient. She needs him to be intrigued, to be greedy enough to grant her the impossible request she’s making.

After what feels like an eternity, Agent B taps the papers on the desktop. “The details on this young man are certainly impressive. Might I infer his records are missing a certain little piece of information?”

Sasha nods, her hands vices around each other. “At 6:08 PM this evening, Benzaiten Steel was shot to death in his own home. His body was discovered at 7:15 PM by Cadet Juno Steel, his sibling, who arrested the murderer - their mother - and reported the crime to the HCPD.” Sasha pulls down her sunglasses so that Agent B see the resolve in her gaze. “I’m here to offer you my future for his.”

A miracle, that’s what she’s asking of them. Dark Matters’ most dangerous technology, employed because some Dark Matters hopeful said _please_. She’s gambled her career - most likely her life - on the possibility of bringing Juno’s brother back from the dead.

“Your sweetheart?” the agent asks.

That’s not a no. Sasha’s heart leaps, even as she scowls. “An acquaintance at best, and I’ll thank you not to treat me like a sentimental teenager.”

“No disrespect meant, I’m sure.”

The agent pages through Benten’s file again, lingering on Sasha’s analysis of his dexterity and intelligence. Sasha refuses to fidget.

After an endless moment, Agent B taps the papers on the desk and points them at her. “You do realize, Miss Wire, that if we revive your young man, no one can ever know.”

She’d dreaded this. “Surely you could pass it off as a fluke? Cadet Steel having missed his brother’s weak heartbeat, maybe-“

“No one can know. Take it or leave it, Miss Wire.”

Sasha exhales. “Very well.”

She had expected this. Project Omega is ‘classified’ the way the sun is ‘warm.’ She’s lucky Agent B didn’t shoot her the moment she mentioned its name. There’s no way Dark Matters would risk word of a death cure becoming public news. It’s a selfish choice on Dark Matters’ part, certainly, but it may also be wise. The impact this technology could have...

The agent lays out the conditions of their trade, unmoved by Sasha’s attempts to negotiate. They both know Dark Matters has her backed into a corner. If she doesn’t agree to this deal, he won’t let her live to spread the word of their miracle serum.

“I accept your terms,” Sasha says, signing her life away. She keeps a deadlock on the emotions roiling behind her ribs. Show no weakness. Deal with the feelings later.

The agent beams. “And I’m just thrilled to hear it! You’re going to make one hell of an agent, Wire.”

“Thank you, Agent...?”

“Burgess,” he says, pumping her hand. “Welcome to the most powerful team in the galaxy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for discussion of Benten’s violent death in canon.
> 
> I’m on tumblr at [ivyontheholodeck](https://ivyontheholodeck.tumblr.com) \- come say hi!


End file.
